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Meet Grayson, my just turned five year old. This is the sort of thing he springs on perfect strangers and us.
Right now is a golden time to be his Dad. At this age Grayson thinks I am worthy of stopping busy people in their tracks just to be introduced to me. Who knows? Soon he may be embarrassed by Dad and Mom and ask to be dropped off down the street so we can be anonymous to his friends. We’ll savor his pride and fondness of us while it lasts. It is always fun arriving home after work. He usually shouts, “Daddy’s home!” and runs to me, almost knocking me down on occasion. There is nothing quite like the experience of someone truly celebrating your arrival! Other times he plays the hiding game and I am supposed to search for him. So far Grayson has not honed his hiding and being quiet skills. He tends to pick the same spots and can’t refrain from giggling while I call for him and pretend not to know where he is. Fun game. Hugs, kisses, tickles and roughhousing ensue. We often wrestle just before it is time to wind down, this after an evening of playing in the back yard, racing, wrestling, and perhaps some bucking bronco on the living room floor. We also play a game called “crocodile water”. Our king size bed is a safe island and the surrounding carpet is “crocodile water.” We try to push each other off the bed, and if you land in the crocodile water you have to fight off the nasty crocs, a theatrical endeavor, then climb back up onto the island. It seems like he needs to get out the last of his energy before brushing his teeth, stories, prayers and lights out. Sometimes it starts by one of us looking as mean as we can and saying, “I’m going to beat you up!” One of Grayson’s recent surprise introductions was in a hospital waiting room where he innocently asked the others in the room, “Do you want to meet my Dad? He is right there! (points) His name is Robert Wertz and he beats me up every night at nine a’cwock.” No one has called Child Protective Services, so he must not come across as an abused child! You know the typical social awkwardness in an elevator? Well Grayson doesn’t. When everyone watches the numbers light up, afraid to speak or make eye contact in such close quarters, Grayson breaks the ice. He is completely comfortable talking with anyone, anywhere, any time. When we see Grayson looking at someone with the intent to speak to them we never know quite what to expect. The other night Grayson was carrying a flyer about Thomas the Train’s visit to the Strasburg Railway when a middle aged African American business woman was approaching from the other direction. We could see Grayson looking at her and angling her way before stepping directly into her path. This kind faced woman was carrying a suitcase and appeared to be on her way to check in to the Harrisburg Hilton. She acknowledged Grayson, who obviously wanted to show her what was in his hand. He proceeded to inform her very earnestly about the Thomas the Train venue and invited her to join us when we go there. She put down her bag and appeared to melt as Grayson pointed out the red star that marked the destination on the map. She thanked him warmly for the invitation and information and went on her way with a priceless smile on her face. In a recent blog post I mentioned the trees we planted a few years ago, how at the time it seemed like they would take forever to grow, and I just couldn’t wait for our landscape to fill in. Like trees, children grow, and what seems like an eternity looking forward is just a flash in the rearview mirror later on. We know. Grayson’s big sisters, Emily and Chelsea, and brother, Spencer are all grown up now. Some of our trees have grown higher than the fence and cannot be avoided when Grayson enjoys his favorite summer activity – being pushed on the rope swing. The rope is tied off high on a branch of a huge oak tree. Always a thrill seeker, he pleads, “Dad, push me really, really, really high -- like forty inches!” Kindergarten is fast approaching and we need to work on math and units of measure. When I push Grayson with a running start as hard as I possibly can he brushes the tree tops on his way to about fifteen feet off the ground. He sails over the fence in one direction and over the koi pond in the other, shrieking and giggling with pleasure the whole time.
He routinely begs to be pushed on the swing when I really need to work instead, and I often find myself promising a good one later. The other night I got home late. It was already past his bed time. Glad to see he was still awake, I decided to let him stay up and push him on the swing until he had enough. Beverly and I have read and shared copies of a book by author Gary Chapman called “The Five Love Languages”. This is a great read which we highly recommend, so practical and important. Having absorbed the book, we identified Grayson’s primary love language as “quality time”. That night he confirmed our conclusion by spontaneously singing a song to me, my ample reward for speaking his love language. Actually, he started by asking me to sing a song “about us” with him. He wanted me to sing it together with him simultaneously, but since I didn’t know the words yet, I asked him to sing it first. The melody was very pleasant, and I wish I could remember it. What I do remember is the three simple verses, each line repeating four times. I stopped pushing so high while he sang: You are my favorite Daddy, You are big and strong, We are special buddies, There it was - a simple, beautiful song from his heart. I was moved and actually choked up a bit as I thanked him. He said he was getting tired so I suggested we call it a day. On the way to the back door we sat on the patio steps, cuddled and talked a little more. He heard me talk about how the trees are growing and wondered if they are older than he is. He asked about what the back yard used to look like before he was born. He also asked about the paver patio, and I told him it was built the same week he was born, that we planned it so I could work at home and be near his Mommy and him the first week of his life. “So the patio is five too?” “Yes, the patio is five, just like you.” Later as he lay sleeping I remembered how eager I had been to see our trees grow. Now I wish they would just stop growing, Grayson too, so that this magical evening could be repeated over and over. By next summer Grayson will be heavier and taller, I will be a year older, and the trees that now brush his feet as he sails over the fence will prevent him from swinging as high. It is with this realization that I will savor our “special buddy” time this summer. Last night at a restaurant he proposed a great plan for after dinner. “You can push me all the way up to the air so I can catch a star!” Instead the three of us ended up walking the Harrisburg River Front to Shipoke, meeting babies and dogs and a nice older gentleman named Tom who graciously invited us into his back yard garden. Grayson asked Tom, “May I see your boy?”, but unfortunately, he didn’t have one. I thank God that I do have one, that I am his favorite Daddy, that I am seen as big and strong in his eyes, someone everyone should know - and that we are such special buddies.
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